


Eureka

by Aloice



Series: jayceofpiltover tumblr drabble collection [7]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: Gen, M/M, new universe lore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 03:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12808599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aloice/pseuds/Aloice
Summary: Or: a tribute to new Jayce, and that lonely aspect of wonder.Written to Yuri on Ice’s eponymous single.





	Eureka

**Author's Note:**

> (Originally posted on tumblr, Dec 2016)

_You exist as the stars exist,  
participating in their stillness, their immensity._

-Louise Glück

 

The first rhythm: the grandfather clock just above the dinner table, guardian of the house,

The second tune: his own heartbeats, magical, the one bestowed gift that won’t ever be allowed to stop,

The third: head buried between books and parts and things nobody else knows, fumbling with gears and blocks,

And then the force - the triumphant child’s cry as sunlight dawns upon the tabletop and the broken robot  _quivers_ , and begins to talk.

 

The first time he notices the hostile looks, he must be ten or eleven. Under thick golden glasses the teacher squints at the petulant kid and almost feels an obligation to refuse, but then his lips fuse together and he looks like he’s about to cry or blow up and she gives up, handling him a pile of new problems. She’s had to prepare them specifically for him every day of the week.

“Jayce,” she asks later, “don’t you see - ”

“I do,” the boy cuts her off, and she fights an urge to be offended as she judges the light in his eyes, that steely determination as he pawls through problems that have bothered kids twice his age. He almost starts with something else - but then bites his lips and swallows it whole. “They don’t understand.”

“Honey - ”

“Just let me,” he pleads, and she finds herself moved by his  _need_ , the way he glows in the presence of books and workshops and power tools.  _What Piltovian would refuse knowledge to such a child?_  “For Piltover.”

 

He falls for Viktor the same way he falls for mathematics, and that is the highest honor.

Alone in the darkness they tinker with the impossible on opposite ends of the table. Two variables. Paired particles. They spin in orbit and there’s an unspoken beauty in silence, the serendipity of thought. Between equations and matrices they send secret messages of impulse.

Jayce is in love, maybe. He never asks to hold Viktor’s hand, and he doesn’t need to. They are better in words and symbols, quantitative data floating in the air between two genius minds. Jayce is convinced that if they would ever kiss, circuitboards in the entire lab would explode from all the build up of intelligence.

He remembers the last day, gripping Viktor by the arm as they walk together away from the laboratory. The stairs are slippery and wet, and Viktor nearly falls. He makes a complaint about humanity, his legs, the way Jayce almost fell on top of him. Jayce replays the conversation in his head, and closes the door behind them.

_Viktor, do you love me?_  He asks, hesitating for the first time in his life. They both know full well that they’re not asking about romantic love. Not then. Not there.

Viktor sees the look on Jayce’s face, and realizes that Jayce doesn’t love him. Not then. Not there. Not like that.

The next day both of them die. One dead scientific career and one dead peace of mind.

 

He is staring at the wall when it sings to him for the first time.

It’s a different kind of love story, one like the love between the moon and the tides, and he feels himself getting slammed repeatedly against the hills, the cliffs, the dead ends. There’s no intuition here, nothing except a belief that there is something there, something real and true and thorough, and he collapses against the lab room wall, heaving angry breaths.

There’s nowhere to go except continuing to climb.

That night, he finds himself leaving chocolates for the new students of the lab, for the first time checking the names of each one.

In the darkest hours of the night inspiration floods the same way as despair. All barriers are loose: all assumptions are thrown out: all that’s left is between the question and the questioner, the truth and the natural philosopher, and he declares himself to be the winner. Between non life sustaining sandwich bites he opens his eyes wide, kicks the empty chairs to keep his logic alive. Crosses one thing from the list, adds another. Turns one machine into overdrive, even as he throws another into the recycling bin at the hallway’s end. 

For hours and days and weeks and  months lights have faded around him, but finally, there it is, his miniature sun. 

The crystal nearly kills him with its blast and shine, but he laughs as if he’s finally found an old friend.

 

“Viktor, I’m sorry.”

Jayce knows his old friend wouldn’t believe that it’s sincere. Is it, when  _he_  also knows that he’s always sacrificed Viktor’s happiness for the happiness of the city and the world?

Darkness; metallic flickers of light; for once, his fingers are trembling even as they close around the grip of the hammer. The clock tolls again,  _time_  - 

They stand there, opposite each other, in such contradiction. Neither of them has been built to fight.

Viktor looks up. Years pass between them with that one singular look. Have they failed each other? Would they ever know?

“Kill him.”

_You know, I’d had at least expected a lie._

The Piltovian closes his eyes and fights to the death.


End file.
